Snap!
Iori snapped his fingers. Semi-transparent ripples swept past, and Syura collapsed straight to the ground, as if all the bones in his body had been pulled out.
"I–I–I… my lord, no… no, that's not right! I… Father… no, I am, what am I, exactly…?"
'Faceless One! Revolutionary Army! Aizen Iori! Ahhh, all of you can just go die!!!'
The young man's expression suddenly twisted, his voice turning vicious like a wolf's, but in the next instant, it changed back again.
"No! Who are you?!"
Syura fell into extreme confusion. His words were completely incoherent, sweat dripping nonstop. Even though he hadn't been moving, he was gasping for breath… After a long while, his body stopped trembling. He slowly lifted his head and looked up at Iori.
"Lo–Lord Aizen… I think… something's wrong with me… I actually, actually for just a moment… wanted to, ugh! Guh… wanted to kill you!!!"
'Kill! Kill! Kill! Unforgivable! How dare you!'
"Shut up! Shut up, damn it!"
Syura screamed as he broke down, the metal fingers of his prosthetic hand digging savagely into his own face, cutting deep, bloody gashes from using too much force.
But he seemed to feel no pain at all. He suddenly sprang up and crawled over on all fours like a rabid dog, hugging Iori's leg and pressing his forehead against it, his body twitching intermittently from overwhelming agitation.
"How could I have such terrifying thoughts? This must be the devil's temptation! …Please… please, Lord Aizen! Purge the devil from my mind!"
'Kill him! You must kill him! He's the real devil! No, he's a Shinigami!'
A grown man collapsed into hysterical crying and screaming, blood and tears mixing together until he looked completely deranged.
Not only were Wave and the others stunned, even Iori frowned slightly.
'Looks like I overdid it… After all, among all the "patients," Syura took the most medicine. The others only had their thinking altered, but this guy's deep consciousness had been completely twisted.'
'How pitiful… no, not pitiful at all.'
"Ahhhhhh!"
Syura's wailing was unbearably tragic, enough to stir sympathy in anyone who heard it, but the Iori whose leg was being clutched spoke in an icy voice.
"I can't do it."
"…Huh? Lord Aizen, are you abandoning me?!" Syura sounded less angry than terrified.
'Good! Now we can finally do it! I'll kill you and everyone connected to you! Disembowel you! Slice you to pieces!'
"How could this be… I'm willing to devote everything I have to you, why… why won't you give me even one chance at redemption?"
"I can't do it."
Iori repeated himself coldly. "Because that so-called 'devil' is you. It's your true nature lurking within your soul, your original self.
The current you is just a carefully manufactured Kyōka Suigetsu, nothing more than a byproduct of brainwashing."
"Me? No, impossible! That's not me! How could I possibly want to kill..."
"When did you start having the illusion that 'you are yourself'?"
Iori said bluntly, "From beginning to end, Syura was nothing but human trash, a scumbag, refuse I used while he still had value."
"And now… there's no value left. Garbage should go back to where garbage belongs."
'Bastard!!!'
"…Impossible… you're lying… I absolutely am not…"
Syura collapsed to his knees, looking up at Iori with a tear-soaked face like a stray dog. "Lord Aizen… you don't want me anymore?"
"..."
Iori didn't answer, whether from speechlessness or simply unwilling to waste more effort.
But Syura seemed to arrive at an answer of his own,
"That's it… that's how it is… it's all 'my' fault! It's all that 'devil's' fault!"
"If he didn't exist, Lord Aizen wouldn't despise me!"
"If he had never existed from the start, I could have followed you forever!"
"Devil! That devil!"
With a twisted expression, Syura stood up and walked to the edge of the city wall. Turning back, his gaze swept over the tense faces of the crowd before finally settling on that expressionless mask.
'Wait! What are you doing?! Idiot! Stop it!'
"Lord Aizen… I'm going to kill the devil named 'myself'! Please… please accept my loyalty once more!"
"…No, that's impossible."
Even in a situation like this, Iori didn't try to comfort him. "I don't want to deceive you. From the very beginning, I never intended to let 'Syura' live."
"Even if you look different from him, your existence is still dependent on his, like a rootless tree or water without a source. Once the brainwashing is undone, you'll disappear very quickly."
"However…"
"Yes. If it's just about 'you,' then I have to admit this..."
"You were my finest subordinate, Syura."
"…Goodbye, Lord Aizen."
'Nooooo!! How could I die so absurdly!?'
Syura closed his eyes in satisfaction. "Is there any greater happiness in this world than earning your recognition?"
Whoosh~ Thud!
The young man fell backward, his body plunging from the high city wall. He crashed onto the knight statues flanking the inner gate, his chest pierced through by a raised, thick stone sword. A massive spray of blood burst forth, staining the statues red…
The black-haired young man Wave walked to the edge of the wall and looked down at the horribly mangled corpse below, his gaze heavy but expressionless.
"You could've let him die without knowing anything, but instead you ruthlessly revealed the cruel truth."
"But from another perspective, you didn't let him perish in ignorance, you gave him the chance to make his own choice… For an empty, temporary personality, could that be considered a kind of 'kindness'?"
"I… can't really understand it."
"Does seeing all this make me seem cruel to you?" Iori asked.
Wave shook his head slightly. "No. I'm not some rookie who's never seen blood, and I've long known what kind of person Syura really was from others…"
"For trash like that, shedding even a single tear would be a waste. Dying with this little pain is already mercy."
"You've grown a lot, Wave," Iori said, nodding in satisfaction.
Hot-blooded youths like him might be stubborn at times, but they're not stupid, on the contrary, they have great potential to grow.
Following Iori through most of the Empire, seeing so many things, killing so many evildoers, interacting with ordinary people from all walks of life… the Wave of now was far more mature than in the original story.
"There's no time for sentimentality, listen up!"
Rustle!
At Iori's command, a sharp sound of attention rang out along the city wall.
"Take a team and search for Minister Honest. He's not the type to hold out to the very end, he must already be fleeing. Find him and kill him."
"I don't care about the rest, but I want an intact head. Understood?"
"Yes!"
"He has means to counter ordinary Imperial Arm, but it only works on one person. Let Syura escort you."
Iori paused briefly, then continued. "The rest of you, split into four teams. Raise my banner and begin suppressing the riot troops inside the capital starting from this gate."
"No need to occupy territory, but any soldiers who've lost their minds and are wantonly destroying things, regardless of which side they're on, deal with them severely!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Yes, sir!"
———
After receiving their assignments, everyone quickly split into four combat teams and set off to stabilize the situation.
With their numbers, protecting the entire capital was impossible, but carving through the main roads, eliminating the feral rabble, and killing a few chickens to scare the monkeys, that was still doable.
"Hm? General, you're not coming with us?" Wave suddenly noticed that Iori didn't seem to be planning to join this operation.
"I have another task."
Iori quietly gazed toward the palace at the center of the Imperial Capital, narrowing his eyes slightly, a hint of anticipation in his tone.
"No need to rush… after all, heroes always make their entrance at the most critical moment!"
[Savior of the Wicked]
[Category: Art-style CG]
[Level: —]
[Quality: —]
[Rewards: Art-style Value +2]
Although it was only a symbolic "+2," it was enough to unlock a CG, which genuinely surprised Iori.
He felt no particular emotion over Syura's death. In his view, this was simply the fate Syura deserved, it had only been delayed until now so Iori could squeeze out more value from him.
Looking down from above, the Imperial Capital was like a gigantic soup pot. Soldiers and civilians were like ingredients wrapped up by some invisible boiling broth, passively tumbling along with its currents. Countless violent conflicts, both visible and invisible, were playing out every moment~
Even though the Revolutionary Army had emphasized discipline beforehand, once the capital fell, events still slid steadily toward loss of control… Fighting the remnants of the Imperial Army scattered throughout the city kept their nerves stretched tight, making it easy for them to snap.
Right now, it was only sporadic, small-scale killing and looting. But if left unchecked, soldiers who tasted the sweetness would degenerate at an alarming speed, and by then even their direct commanders would be powerless.
Compared to the tragedy about to unfold in this city, Syura's death wasn't worth dwelling on.
He was just an insignificant wave in the great tide, and a muddy one at that.
From his lofty vantage point, Iori watched as his elite squads entered the city to suppress resistance and restore order. But due to their limited scale, it was like adding a few drops of cold water to boiling soup, completely unable to solve the root problem.
So he took out the compass-like Imperial Arm engraved with a yin–yang fish pattern, Shambhala.
He had only made preparations beforehand as a precaution, but now it seemed his pessimistic prediction had come true… This force had to be activated.
Buzz!
Buzz!
Buzz!
Under Iori's mental control, massive teleportation arrays appeared one after another on the cleared streets. Then, batch after batch of well-equipped, disciplined soldiers emerged, over a thousand of them in total. At their head stood Esdeath.
"The Imperial Capital… it's been a long time."
Esdeath had already expected the teleportation. Although Iori had said in advance it was just a "backup measure," both of them knew it would be unavoidable.
"Liver, switch to the 'Masked Shinigami' banners we prepared beforehand. Split into hundred-man units and act independently. Suppress all rioting soldiers causing chaos or committing crimes, no matter who they belong to, suppress them all!"
"Understood, Lady Esdeath."
The old-butler-like Liver answered respectfully. His demeanor then shifted, and he began directing the troops with swift, decisive movements. At a glance, he was clearly a seasoned general.
This unit was composed of elites personally selected by Esdeath. In terms of average combat strength, they might not match Iori's direct subordinates, but their strength lay in their near-absolute obedience to her. Even in this "boiling soup pot," they could follow orders without being swept away by the tide.
With these thousand-plus troops added to Iori's few hundred, such an elite force appearing in the Imperial Capital was like tigers entering a flock of sheep when dealing with undisciplined rabble. No one could stop them. They quickly pacified the nearby districts and expanded their control across the entire western city.
Esdeath herself felt eager to move. For a battle maniac like her, stepping onto the battlefield without harvesting worthy prey was unthinkable, she needed to hunt a few valuable targets to sate the hunger in her heart.
However, ordinary soldiers held no interest for her, and Iori had told her to conserve her strength, saying a satisfying opponent would appear soon.
So Esdeath reluctantly restrained herself and waited patiently. She didn't have to wait long, because a thunderous roar soon came from the palace, drawing the attention of countless people, including her.
Rumble~
Large swathes of magnificent buildings collapsed, and amid the thick smoke and dust, a colossal shadow slowly rose.
Buzz!!!
A blinding beam of light tore through the smoke, sweeping rapidly across the palace grounds, almost slicing the earth apart. In the next instant, searing flames shot skyward. Explosions rang out continuously wherever the beam passed, like a gigantic crimson lotus suddenly blooming.
BOOM!